


Bad Apple

by idkflightya



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Master/Servant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:21:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25762066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idkflightya/pseuds/idkflightya
Summary: Inspired by the song "Bad Apple"
Kudos: 1





	Bad Apple

Miss was always kind to me, unlike Master and Mistress. She treated me as if I was her own sister.

Once again as I neared her door, she called my name and told me to enter her little domain before I could even knock.

It wasn't proper, I had told her. A servant needed to abide by the rules.

She told me with a smile that it didn't matter. She told me that we were equals inside that door. Her eyes stared blankly at me as always, but I could feel the warmth in her gaze.

~

Miss was different in many many ways. For one, I was nothing but the daughter of her house's cook, and she was the lone child of a duke.

Maybe my view was biased, but to me Miss was a woman of unrivalled intelligence. She didn't need sheets to play- she could recreate a piece after only hearing it once. She also taught herself to paint by learning to distinguish colors by scent.

And she was so nice that she offered to teach me.

Miss was also nineteen, seven years older than I was. The ideal age for marriage.

In looks, Miss was truly perfect. She had inherited every bit of her mother's flawless beauty, the fragile doll-like framework of her body surreal.

But no one could fix her disability.

No matter how many tutors were hired, she could not read or write. 

Her father was beyond anxious. "No one would want to marry her," he said one evening. "who would want a wife so useless as she is?"

Mistress would start crying every time Master said something like that. Her womb was infertile and Miss was the only child she had been able to deliver. 

Master described her as a vase. A decoration with no actual use. And whenever he threatened to disown her, Mistress would beg and beg for him to not.

A bad apple. That was what Miss was in the eyes of my Master. Leave it to rot, and the whole family name would be demolished. A bad apple must be disposed of.

Mistress did not agree. She did not love her daughter as any mother would, but she cared for her out of love for her husband, and the belief that anything stemmed from him could not be "evil".

Miss herself would not comment on any of these. Today, as I enter her room, she was painting as usual.

"Miss," I frowned upon registering the monotone blacks and whites. "Master and Mistress would not approve of this."

"Why not?" came the answer. Her blank eyes were filled with sadness. "I am just drawing their beautiful daughter."

In the picture was a dove trapped inside a cage.


End file.
